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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29319846">It's A Small, Small World</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mossadspydolphin/pseuds/mossadspydolphin'>mossadspydolphin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Awesome Eileen Leahy, Disney World &amp; Disneyland, Established Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Finale What Finale, Gen, Humor, Irish Language, Misunderstandings, Post-Episode: s15e20 Carry On, Sort Of, banged out in one half-assed session because i just wanted to get it posted, eileen is a troll, i write like the spn team, in that butchered way that 1/64th irish people use it, mistaken for murderer, sheer idiocy, shes just so done</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:53:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,461</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29319846</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mossadspydolphin/pseuds/mossadspydolphin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes I wonder what Sam's Stanford friends thought of him after he suddenly dropped off the grid and started appearing on wanted lists. This kind of wrote itself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>It's A Small, Small World</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>One look at the Disney World map put me off trying to plot realistic routes. The characters go where the plot wants them to go.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chris had thought that a trip to Disney World would be straightforward: book the tickets, fly to Orlando, spend a week or so going on rides and meeting college kids in dumb costumes, done. And indeed, the planning had gone easily enough. There’d been no trouble booking the tickets and hotel rooms. Both Reighyanne and Caiytlynne absolutely refused to meet their favorite princesses without princess gowns of their own, but Laura took care of that in a few Amazon clicks. Even the plane ride was uneventful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trouble only started when they were in the park itself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, the first couple of hours had been standard: they’d gone on rides, met a few characters. They found a table at one of the innumerable little caf</span>
  <span>és scattered around the park, and ordered some horrifyingly overpriced food. It still tasted pretty good, though, until The Mustard Drip That Started It All. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she took a bite of her hot dog, a bit of mustard dripped onto the wide tulle skirt of Caiytlynne’s Belle dress. Her eyes went wide as the saucers on the spinning teacup ride. Then she screamed. Her face turned red as the forgotten hot dog as she wailed incomprehensibly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chris and Laura looked around frantically to see if anyone was judging their parenting, but nobody looked twice at them--apparently tantrums were the norm at The Happiest Place on Earth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s--it’s okay, honey,” Laura said quickly. “See, it’s only a little drop. I’ll wipe it off now.” She got up to tend to Caiytlynne’s dress, and for the first time Chris had a clear view of the man a few tables away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been over twenty years since he’d last seen Sam Winchester, but Chris knew him instantly. He’d grown out his hair and he had some stubble, but his face hadn’t changed a bit. That was definitely Sam Winchester. He’d been a really nice guy, Chris had thought when they first met. Until the mysterious fire, and Sam running off with his supposedly estranged brother, and all the news that had followed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a murderous psychopath at Disney World. And Chris had thought the scariest thing would be the waiting lines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Laura,” he said with forced calm, “can I have a quick word with you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure. Just a second.” She dabbed at Caiytlynne’s dress with a napkin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chris glanced at Winchester’s table again. He was with a woman and two kids. The woman was using her hands a lot as she spoke. Maybe she was Jewish, or Italian--oh God. Did Sam Winchester have Mafia connections?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Laura. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laura sighed and got up. “What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lowered his voice so the kids wouldn’t hear him. “Remember that guy from college I once told you about, Sam Winchester?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The one who tried to assassinate Rooney?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and a hell of a lot more. Arson, weird killings, kept turning up alive after everyone was sure he was dead, all that. Anyway, see that tall guy over there? It's him, I'm positive." He didn't mention his Mafia theory. No use scaring her too much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what do you want to do?” It was clear that she either didn’t believe him, or somehow did not grasp the horror that was Sam Winchester. “You want to call security because some random dad looks like a guy you knew twenty years ago?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell no. Rent-a-cops wouldn’t stand a chance against him. And I don’t know about that woman he’s with. She could be even more dangerous. But we can’t just let him go free.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another wail came from their table. Now Reighyanne’s dress was in need of help. “I have to take care of that,” said Laura. “And Chris, fifty thousand people come through this park </span>
  <em>
    <span>each day.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Most likely we’ll go our way, those people will go theirs, and we’ll never see each other again.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>They kept seeing each other. In line for rides. Meeting Donald Duck. Just walking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girls wanted Mickey Mouse ear hats, so they went to The Chapeau. Winchester and Mob Lady were having an argument outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know how I feel about putting the kids' names on stuff," Winchester said. “It’s not safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not safe for...what? Were those cute little kids some kind of bait for the Murder Partners’ schemes? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's just ears,” Mob Lady argued. She had an accent. Was this an international thing? “It's not like you're putting it on all their clothes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The line moved ahead, and Chris would never have known who won the argument if he hadn’t found himself </span>
  <em>
    <span>right next to Mob Lady </span>
  </em>
  <span>as he waited for Laura and the girls to finish Pirates of the Caribbean. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They should have something for the waiters.” It was Mob Lady talking to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he managed to say. Why was she talking to him of all people? Had Sam Winchester recognized him? Was she going to ensnare him somehow?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something to do. For the people waiting for their families to get off rides. My husband and I are taking turns, but it gets boring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Yeah, it does.” He was talking to a mobster. About Disney World. Maybe small talk would keep the conversation from getting too dangerous. “So, this your first time here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. First time for all of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember my first trip to Disney World. It was great.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s a bit much. We’re going home tomorrow and I’m glad of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thank God, he only had to survive until tomorrow. Probably. He supposed Winchester could still put out a hit on him from…. “You’re not from around here, are you?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Which Mafia?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re from Kansas,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Kansas Mafia. He suppressed images of being kneecapped by Dorothy. “You don’t sound like you’re from Kansas.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An odd look crossed her face, like she was sorting through possible responses. "I’m from Cork," she finally said. “Originally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, Ireland!" Chris said brightly. Irish Mob, then. What to say. "I'm part Irish, you know. My great-grandfather was born in Ulster, I think." He laughed. "Erin go bragh, pog mo thoin, slainte. I'm getting those right?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman looked exhausted. Probably from being in a relationship with a serial killer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Perfectly," she said.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Forget the lines for rides, Chris thought. At least you got to do something fun at the end. But there was nothing fun about waiting for half an hour to meet Elsa. Sure, it was great to see the girls so enthralled. But he was dying inside. After at least half a dozen princesses, he was almost hoping to get taken out by Winchester. Or possibly the Irish Mob. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they stopped for dinner, Chris glanced around nervously. Winchester and his family had apparently chosen someplace else to eat. Still, Chris could barely choke down his food. He wondered if he was the only person who’d ever spent a whole day at Disney World expecting to be murdered by an old classmate (who, to be fair, was a person of interest in way too many murders).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They finished eating, and Reighyanne and Caiytlynne started arguing over what they wanted to do next. More princesses seemed to be the consensus, and Chris agreed, especially when he realized that princesses and violent murder generally didn’t go together. Yeah, Winchester’s kids looked about the age to want to meet the princesses, but that meant nothing. Right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he thought this very thought, a shadow fell over him. “Hey,” said a deep voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Sam Winchester.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Sam Winchester, and then Chris knew for certain that he was going to die. He was going to die. Sam Winchester was going to kill him at Disney World. His family would mourn, but Chris knew he’d be the punchline of a joke. Winchester reached into his pocket, presumably for a weapon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. The murderer was holding out his phone. "Can you take a picture of us?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he was going to live. "Uh, sure."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Winchester stood back, and Chris snapped a few pictures of Murder Guy and his family wearing Mickey earhats.They were the most carefully-framed photos of his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Winchester said with a smile as he took his phone back. He squinted at Chris. “Hey. Sorry if this sounds weird, but do I know you from somewhere?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chris shook his head frantically. “Pretty sure not. I think I just have one of those faces, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe. Thanks again. Have a good night.” And Sam Winchester and his murder family walked happily off into the sunset.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who was that?” Reighyanne asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a man who wanted me to take a picture,” Chris said shakily. He’d spend the rest of the evening looking over his shoulder, he knew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fireworks over Cinderella’s castle had never seemed so ominous.</span>
</p>
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